The Wrath of Elizabeth Weir
by FumblesMcStupid
Summary: Oh dear, someone's really annoyed Elizabeth! Who is it? What have they done? What will Elizabeth do to them?


A/N: Once again, I have to give some of the credit (or blame?) to Hellsflyboy, for inspiration (in other words, she set the plot bunnies loose for a new fic, when I should be concentrating on finishing the ones I've got started!) I also have to thank Reefgirl, for the loan of Chief Alex Ramsey. I seriously recomend that you go read 'Cooking with Blue MarySue' as it's brilliant and you will fall off your seat for laughing.Fel diolch am fawr y ddau!

"WHAT THE NAME OF ALL THINGS SACRED IS GOING ON HERE?"

The Mess Hall, which had previously been a cacophony of raised voices, shouts and shrieks, fell silent with a deathly hush. Every person in the room stopped what they were doing to listen to their leader.

Elizabeth Weir was _pissed_, that was obvious. Hands on her hips, jaw set and her gaze was so fiery it would have lit a candle at ten paces. Someone was in _Trouble_, capital T and all.

"I am very disappointed, in all of you," her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but they caught every word, "You are Earth's best and brightest, yet here you are, in another galaxy, acting like children or animals in a zoo, not to mention squandering valuable resources."

She looked around the room, making eye contact with every occupant, taking in every detail. "However, this sort of thing rarely begins en masse. I want to know who started it," she paused, "NOW!"

Sheepishly, there was a rustle from behind one of the upturned tables, and a head poked out. Slowly, the figure stood up and Dr. Elizabeth Weir, despite her fury, had to suppress a small giggle. The figure was bespattered from head to foot in every food imaginable, uniform covered in sauce, hair matted with porridge, face smudged with what looked like beetroot, dying the skin an interesting shade of violet.

The figure straightened out and spoke with a poker face and a calm voice, "I did, Dr. Weir."

If looks could kill, then Dr. Rodney McKay would have become a smoking crater under Elizabeth's stare. She paused, still staring, but Rodney refused to back down and stared right back.

"Explain yourself, Rodney."

"Well, I was…"

"No, Dr. Weir, it was not just him, I started it too," interrupted another voice. A heavily accented voice.

"Shut up, Radek, stay out of this," hissed Rodney. But the short engineer refused and continued.

"No, we started this together, I will not allow you to be punished alone," he turned to Dr. Weir, "We started it, Dr. Weir, because we were insulted."

Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow, looking scarily like Teal'c for an instant, but Rodney just blathered on, taking up the story.

"We were having dinner, minding our own business-"

"Discussing methods of more efficient integration of our naquadah generators with the Ancients' power grid-" interjected Dr. Zelenka.

"When we overheard a conversation between Sergeant Bates and Colonel Sheppard; they were saying how scientists 'make up bull shit to sound smart,' and that it was the military who save the day-" completed Dr. McKay.

"Of course, is nonsense-"

"So we pointed it out-"

"In a civilised manner-"

"To which they replied ' C'mon, why don't you eggheads just admit that you don't know the answers and that you make it up' and called us names like geeks, boffins and Spok-wannabes-" now Rodney was fuming.

"So I corrected them-" Radek was also beginning to get annoyed.

"They just laughed-"

"So we threw our dinner at them," they completed together, folding their arms in perfect unison.

"And then what happened?" asked Weir coolly.

"They retaliated, at which point the rest of the science team – thanks by the way – jumped in to our rescue, and it kind of… escalated… from there.." Rodney's voice trailed off under Elizabeth's death-stare.

"So you two geniuses, supposedly the two smartest people in Atlantis, started a food fight like a couple of two year olds, just because someone called you names?"

Neither Rodney nor Radek could reply, when it was put like that; they just stared at the floor.

"Right. I want the pair of you, and you alone, to clean this mess up. Then, I want you to do everyone's laundry tonight, to clean every piece of clothing that has been soiled by your little escapade. Tomorrow, you will be cooking every meal for every person on base, so that you may appreciate the hard work put in by Chief Ramsey and her crew to provide you with food. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," whispered the sorry pair.

"And as for the rest of you, I am still appalled by your behaviour. While I do not condone name calling, I would have expected a somewhat higher degree of decorum from you all. Sheppard, Bates, you will both report to me first thing in the morning to receive your punishments." She turned smartly on her heel and marched out of the aptly named 'Mess' Hall, which was indeed a sight to behold – the walls and floors were smeared with unidentifiable food, tables upturned as makeshift barricades, and puddles of unknown liquids and mashed piles of food lay everywhere.

One by one, the dishevelled members of the Atlantis expedition left the room to change, leaving just Rodney and Radek in the centre of the room.

"Dr. Weir is pissed."

"Ten points for pointing out the blindingly obvious," Rodney sighed, "C'mon, I'll get the mop and bucket. Do you want the floors or the walls?"

"Floor please, as I cannot reach high enough to clean the tops."

"Any excuse," grumbled McKay as he wandered off in the direction of the kitchen.

"Rodney, wait!" shouted Radek, "I'll get the mops, or Alex Ramsey will… I believe the phrase is 'string you up by your balls,' when she sees the mess we have created. She might be a little more forgiving with me"

"Thanks," smiled Rodney, "Mind you it was so worth it, just to see Cadman pour yoghurt over Kavanaugh's hair."

"Or Sheppard taking a direct hit with a roast potato."

"What about Carson's pea-shooter? With mushy peas?"

Radek was laughing openly now, "Or Teyla and Ronon grabbing Bates, turning him up-side-down and dunking his head in a pot of gravy?"

"We should do this more often."

"What?" said Radek disbelievingly, "Incur the Wrath of Elizabeth Weir on a regular basis?"

"Nah," smirked Rodney, "We'll wait until she's off base."

A/N: Well? What did you think? C'mon, tell me, I really want to know on this one!


End file.
